


Mischief

by for_the_love_of_wolves



Series: Whumptober 2020 [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Rescue, Steter and Stetopher will be platonic, The Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), The Petopher is romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26995123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_the_love_of_wolves/pseuds/for_the_love_of_wolves
Summary: A little boy knocks at Chris' door at night, telling him the Hales are about to die. Chris rushes to the house, feeling that the boy, Mischief, is different. And very special.
Relationships: Chris Argent & Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski, future Peter Hale/Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Whumptober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949101
Comments: 28
Kudos: 804
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Mischief

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Whumptober Day 13: Oxygen Mask

Chris is about to go to sleep, when there is a knock at the door. It sounds timid. 

Chris frowns and instinctively settles a hand on the comforting weight of the gun resting in its holster at his thigh like it always does. In his whole life as a hunter, Chris only forgot it once. The lesson his father taught him afterwards is still fresh and painful in his mind. Now, he automatically reaches for it first when he wakes up in the morning.   
  
He opens the door, ready to shoot or fight if he has to, but … there is no one. At least Chris thinks so at first. He stares out into the darkness of the night and starts to think of a prank from the neighbour’s kids, when suddenly, there is a quiet whimper.  
  
Chris freezes and looks down. A little boy is standing in front of him, small and lost looking. His clothes are too baggy and his shoes are undone. The boy has two of his fingers in his mouth. He’s chewing on them while sniffling, his wide eyes glistening with gathering tears.  
  
What the hell, Chris thinks. 

The boy looks up at him and mumbles something around his fingers. The words are barely audible. But Chris still hears them. Almost as if the boy places them inside his mind. “You have to help me. Please.” 

Chris blinks. He takes his hand off his gun and crouches down, to be at eye level with the kid. “Alright, buddy. Where are your parents? Did you get lost?”

The boy shakes his head. He takes his fingers out of his mouth and whispers, “They are going to die. _Please._ You have to help. I ... I can’t save them alone.” 

Chris shivers involuntarily. “What are you talking about?” 

“They are going to die,” the boy repeats, haunted eyes getting blank as he starts to tremble. “Please. I can hear them. Feel them. It’s so hot. Too much smoke. No way out.” The boy whines and pulls at his own mussed hair firmly, shuddering helplessly. 

This boy, Chris realises, is different. He is … _something_. Chris doesn’t have a word for it now. But he is definitely not completely human. A seer maybe? “Hey. Calm down,” he says, carefully putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What is your name?” 

“Mischief,” the boy mutters and snuffles noisily. 

Chris frowns. The name adds to the many questions he has. But there is no time for them right now. “Who is going to die, Mischief?” he asks carefully. “Who were you talking about?” 

The boy shudders. “The Hales,” he breathes and whimpers. “They are going to burn.”  
  
Chris freezes. 

  
For a moment, the world just … stops. 

* * *

Chris drives as fast as he can.  
  
He still feels like he is going way too slow. He already called the fire apartment, but knows from experience that they will take a while. Maybe too long.  
  
The boy sits on the passenger’s seat, staring out of the window silently.  
  
“You are sure about this?” Chris asks, not for the first time. “How did you …”

“Dreams,” the boy says quietly. “I have dreams. Not only at night. Sometimes, they come when I’m at school. The teachers say I zone out because I’m bored or not interested in what they say, but that’s not true. I can’t control it.” 

Damn. Chris swallows. “Do your parents know?” 

Stiles hums. “My mum is dead. Has been for a while now. And my Dad doesn’t know. Not really. I told him once, and he said maybe I should get checked out by doctors. I don’t like doctors. They poke too much. I had to visit a therapist and they wanted to send me away from Beacon Hills. So I told Dad and everyone else that I don’t have the dreams anymore. And now ... now I dreamt about the Hales.” 

The Hales. Chris feels a certain kind of pull. A longing. “Do you know the Hales well?” 

Mischief nods. “Cora goes into my school. She is my friend. Sometimes, I play with her at their house. Her mother invited me to dinner and once I was allowed to stay overnight.” He looks over at Chris seriously. “They are different too, you know?”

Chris’ fingers tighten around the steering wheel. God. This boy … “How do you know?” 

The boy shrugs. “I just know. It is kind of obvious. Cora smells things she shouldn’t be able to smell. And she rubs her cheek against her uncles’, when he picks her up from school. His name is Peter and he says I’m special. I am sure they are werewolves.” He looks back out of the window, sniffling. “I don’t have a problem with that. But someone has. Someone wants to kill them.”  
  
Chris swallows heavily. God. Is this real or just a weirdly specific nightmare? 

He knows he’s already drilling that boy with questions, but he has to ask one more. He has to. 

“Why did you come to me?” 

“The wolf told me to find you,” Mischief says seriously. “He said, you are a friend. Said you can help. And he showed me how to find you. The wolf is nice. He has blue eyes. And he is completely white. Like one of these arctic wolves. But they don’t live here. He comes to visit me in my dreams sometimes.” 

Chris’ stomach clenches. He only knows one white wolf. Peter, he thinks and shivers again. He is talking about Peter. 

It has been quite a while since Chris has seen Peter. A few years, to be precise. They … they had a thing. It was good. Nice. It felt right. Until Chris’ father decided to destroy it. Because a hunter and a werewolf can’t be in love. It is impossible. Not for the Hales, who accepted Chris with an ease that almost pained him. But Gerard … Gerard said he would kill every single Hale and Peter last and slowly if Chris didn’t stop seeing him. So Chris decided to protect the one good thing in his life and left Beacon Hills.  
  
When he returned, he didn’t have the courage to go and see Peter. He felt too guilty. Still does. And now, this … Now, this little boy stepped into his life and told him the Hales are about to die. Chris almost wishes it was a nightmare. But he stopped thinking it is one. 

“I can smell it,” the boy whispers, ripping him out of his thoughts. 

Chris can too. Smoke. God … He drives even faster, although he is scared he will drive himself and the little boy against a tree. 

When they finally approach the Hale house, Chris’ heart falls. The house is burning. The flames are already lighting up the night sky. Chris can hear screams and forces himself to move. He jumps out of the car and notices the boy is doing the same. No. “Stay in the car!” Chris yells. He is sure there are hunters surrounding the house, making sure no one escapes. 

Mischief hesitates, but then he nods and climbs back on the seat, closing the door. 

Chris runs. 

There are not as many hunters as he would have expected. And he is a moment of surprise on his side. No one plans on him appearing. 

Chris knocks two out with the handle of his gun and shoots one more. A fourth lunges at him but Chris throws him on the back effortlessly and takes the man’s weapon. 

That’s it. Nothing more stands between Chris and the burning house.  
  
He kicks the door open and runs inside, immediately coughing as smoke fills his lungs. 

He looks around desperately, still hearing the screams but not really able to locate them. Suddenly, there is an urgent voice inside his mind. 

“In the basement, Chris. They are in the basement.” The voice sounds like Mischief’s. 

Chris runs down the stairs. He knows them. He knows the whole house. Has been here often enough. And he doesn’t understand at first. Why are they all in the basement? Why don’t they escape through the secret tunnels there? Why … 

Every thought is cut off, when he reaches the basement and the sight in front of him makes his breath falter. 

Peter. Peter, partly shifted, slams himself against a barrier that’s invisible for Chris, but he immediately understands. Mountain ash. Of course. There is mountain ash trapping the wolves in the basement. He sees the whole pack coughing and choking, whimpering children clutching at their parents, Talia and her husband slamming against the mountain ash on the other side, where the tunnels are. It’s furtively. As are Peter’s attempts. But he is trying anyway, eyes filled with desperation. 

“Peter!” Chris screams. 

The wolf stops throwing himself against the mountain ash and freezes, looking over at him. In the matter of a second, a row of emotions flick over Peter’s face. Wonder, mixed with relief and hope. “Chris? The mountain ash … I can’t break through. Please tell me you can, please …”

Chris looks down at the thick black line in front of him. He swallows. “You can,” the voice inside his mind whispers. “You can. That’s why you are here.” 

Chris steps forward, crouches down and rubs his knuckles over the line. When he raises his hand, it is broken. He almost sobs with relief. But he has no time for it. Peter presses two shivering pups into his arms, begging him to get them outside. Chris nods and wraps his arms around the children tightly, running back up the stairs.

There is more smoke now. It is hard to see through it. The house is burning down from top to the bottom. A disgusting kind of torture, making sure the werewolves would slowly realize there is no escape. Only approaching flames. The house is creaking and it almost seems like the walls are shaking.

Chris’ stomach sinks when he sees that the flames have made their way towards the entrance, eating away at the wood hungrily. He quickly brings the children outside and makes them sit on the grass, gasping for fresh air just like them. “I will be back,” he promises the wide-eyed children, running back inside.   
  


Before the roaring of flames engulfs him, he can hear the distant sound of sirens.  
  


On his way back down to the basement, Chris meets a few other adult wolves, all carrying children or helping stumbling teenagers out of the burning building. He knows most of them. Peter isn’t among them. Neither is Talia. A ball of worry forms inside Chris and it explodes, when he reaches the basement coughing, discovering Talia kneeling on the floor and shoving at something.  
  
When Chris approaches he sees the something is a heavy beam that must have collapsed. It lays on Peter’s legs, pressing him to the floor. The wolf is struggling to get it off, but his attempts are weak and don’t even make the beam move. 

Talia looks up at Chris wide-eyed, her breaths rattling from the smoke she inhaled. “He’s pinned. I … I’m too weak, the mountain ash and … and, there is wolfsbane in the smoke, I ...,” her voice breaks and she coughs violently, bending over. Chris can feel the impact the smoke has on him too. It is getting harder to breathe and he feels dizzy. But he won’t let Peter die like this. He crouches and puts his hands on the beam, looking at Talia firmly. 

“Together,” he rasps and she nods. Chris counts to three and presses his whole weight against the beam. Talia does too, he can see her eyes gleaming red and a stifled roar comes over her lips. The beam first doesn’t move at all and Chris almost screams in desperation, but then, it slowly shifts. Peter screams when it moves over his legs that are broken without a doubt and the noise makes Chris’ heart clench, but he continues pushing, until Peter is free.  
  
After, Chris has to force himself to move. Everything is blurry and he can’t smell anything but smoke. The heat is unbearable and he is sure there are only flames awaiting them up the stairs now. Talia reaches for Peter, but Chris shakes his head. “I’ll take him, run,” he croaks. Talia hesitates, but nods and moves, swaying slightly while rushing upstairs. 

Chris scoops Peter up and groans, his legs buckling with the wolf’s weight and his vision swimming. Come on … Come on Argent, he tells himself sternly. It’s not time to die. Not here. Not like that. No. 

He forces his body to take one step at a time, Peter groaning in his arms, his face smudged with ash and glistening with sweat. 

Upstairs, Chris steps into an inferno. He can’t even make out the door. Everything is flames and smoke and screaming wood. He still goes on, even when his jacket catches fire. He walks, until suddenly, someone reaches out, taking his arm and pulling at him. It is a firefighter. There are two others, who gesture at Chris to let them take Peter. But Chris shakes his head. He is going to carry Peter all by himself.  
  
He follows the firefighters numbly, until, all of a sudden, they are outside. 

Breathing in the fresh night air is almost too much. Chris collapses, trying to take care Peter won't fall on his injured legs. They lay in the cold grass and Chris takes huge gasps of air, groaning at the dry feeling in his throat, that doesn’t want to fade. There is a lot of yelling, coughing and crying around him. Chris stares at Peter, who blinks up at the sky and coughs weakly. “Mischief,” the wolf breathes, barely audible. “He found you.”  
  
“He did,” Chris rasps, reaching out and putting a hand on Peter’s arm. “He saved your life.” 

“You did too,” Peter says, looking at him. “You came. You saved my family. Thank you. I ... I missed you. Really missed you.”  
  
Chris tears up. He can’t help it. He moves his hand and grabs one of Peter’s hands, squeezing it. Peter squeezes back lightly and closes his eyes. 

The next moment, they are surrounded by rambling paramedics. They make them sit up and press oxygen masks on their faces. Peter groans in pain when one of the paramedics touches his legs and Chris knows they are broken in several places. They won’t be for long, but he guesses it will take Peter a while to heal, with the wolfsbane that was in the smoke. 

He watches as they heave Peter on a stretcher and he just can’t let go. “Please,” he croaks, “let me drive with him.”  
  
The paramedic looks at him, and maybe she sees something in his eyes, because she nods. 

Chris follows the stretcher and stumbles into the ambulance, pressing the oxygen mask to his face, inhaling the clean air greedily. When he sits down beside the stretcher and takes Peter’s hand again, he catches a short glimpse of Talia, who has her arm around Mischief. The little boy is holding on to her legs as he stares at Chris, his face serious and somehow too old. Chris swears, he sees Mischief's eyes gleaming white for a tiny moment, just before the doors of the ambulance close and block the view.  
  
  
Later, when they are left alone in a hospital room and Chris sits on an uncomfortable plastic chair next to Peter’s bed, he asks, “Mischief … He has a connection to you, right? But to me too. How is that possible? He saw your wolf inside his mind. I did too sometimes, when we were together. What …”  
  
“Mates,” Peter mumbles, his voice muffled against the oxygen mask. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he smiles. "Magic."  
  
And Chris gets it. He gets it and it feels like a revelation. Soulmates. They are all Soulmates.  
  
It makes sense. But it also scares him a little. Because Mischief … There is something about him. Something special.  
  
“One day,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over the back of Peter’s hand, “he will be very powerful.” 

“Oh yes,” Peter whispers, still smiling. “I can’t wait.” 

Me neither, Chris thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking prompts for whumptober, check out the post on my [Tumblr](https://for-the-love-of-wolves.tumblr.com/post/630783606050209792/whumptober-begins-today-if-you-have-any-prompts)  
> :)


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